Ours Is A Love Story, It Goes Like This
by FallenOutTheWindow
Summary: "Ours is a love story. It goes like this: Man meets woman. She's got issues. Man thinks she's perfect – She knows better."


**A/N: In one week I managed to watch ****_Teen Wolf_**** from start to finish and I'm not ashamed to admit I'm slightly in love with the whole Stydia dynamic. I'm not sure where I got the quote in bold from but I do know that I've been dying to use it for far too long and that this fandom seemed like the perfect place to play around with it.**

**Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: Seriously? **

* * *

_**Ours is a love story. It goes like this – Man meets woman… **_

Not all love stories start the same, some start out slow and others burn bright and fade out fast. Some love stories aren't love stories at all but that's a different matter altogether.

This story starts on a rainy Tuesday in October with a broken castle.

'Stiles' Stilinski sat on the floor, admiring the fort that he'd been building for the past hour, it had taken planning, precision and the promise of giving away his cookies at lunch to one of the other children in order to collect enough cushions and blankets but he had done it. He had built this castle alone and he was proud of it.

Just as the beaming boy was about to enter his fort on of the bigger kids, a particularly tall and clumsy nine year old by the name of Aaron Gardner, tripped and flailing for something to stop his fall, accidentally grasped one of the corner pieces of Stiles' castle, bringing the whole thing tumbling down.

"Oops?" Aaron shrugged, barely pausing long enough to apologise before standing and running over to re-join in a game of tag while Stiles stood in the midst of the wrecked fort.

"You should have used the rulers," a voice piped up from behind the young boy.

Turning quickly, Stiles furrowed his tiny brow, trying to place the voice.

Standing before him, bright eyed and smiling was a girl, smaller than him but around the same age.

"You could have tied them to your castle, made it stand up better," she carried on, moving over to one of the fallen cushions and standing it back up again.

"I can't tie knots," Stiles admitted, looking down at his Velcro sneakers, waiting for the laughter to start, shocked when it didn't come.

"That's okay," the girl smiled, "I can tie the knots for you if you can reach up to put the blankets on top."

"I can do that!"

"Good," the young girl nodded, brushing back auburn hair before turning around, pigtails swinging wildly as she began moving pillows and blankets, trying ribbons and strings to the fort in random places with elaborate bows. Stiles laughed for the first time in weeks as one of the blankets came crashing down on the girl, dwarfing her in fabric and helped his newfound friend up after regaining his breath. The two worked together to rebuild the fort while the other children ran past, mindful of the creation after being warned openly and repeatedly by the fiery little eight year old.

Eventually, the fort was complete and the duo sat inside, surrounded by sheets and cushions, grinning widely at each other, proud of what they had made together.

"What's your name?" Stiles eventually blurted out, interrupting her story about her new dog, realising he didn't even know the name of his partner.

"Lydia," the girl smiled, thrusting a hand towards Stiles.

Slowly, Stiles reached out, grasping the outstretched hand with his own and shaking it as he'd seen his father do countless times before, "I'm Stiles."

"I know," Lydia said, smiling.

* * *

_**She's got issues. Man thinks she's perfect – She knows better. **_

Smart, beautiful, sarcastic as hell, to Stiles, Lydia Martin was perfect.

Though the 5'3" redhead no longer acknowledged him, Stiles still watched out for his friend, saw her change from the little girl who built forts in the third grade and traded her apple slices for his oranges to the awkward girl in middle school, struggling to grow up fast enough after her parents' divorce and smothered with attention from her peers after a growth spurt one summer.

She may not be a little girl anymore but Stiles was hardly the young boy struggling to tie knots together.

Instead, Stiles was running around after werewolves and lizards mutants and cryptic vets and working to keep his grades up but despite everything, he always made sure to keep an eye out for Lydia, slept in a waiting room for four nights running just to make sure that she was okay after a psychotic werewolf decided to take a bite out of her side.

Just thinking about Lydia's naked run through the woods filled him with fear; Stiles wanted nothing more than to keep her safe but fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Slowly, Lydia was pulled into a world of monsters and magic and there was nothing he could do to keep her safe. Hell, Stiles was barely keeping his head above the water, battling a kanima and facing bi-weekly sacrifices but the same couldn't be said for Lydia.

Through it all, a partially sighted werewolf, a disguised Darach and the sudden reveal of her true supernatural nature, Lydia Martin stood tall.

In four inch heels Lydia Martin strutted through the world of the weird without so much as a hair out of place.

To him, she was perfect.

* * *

_**They spend hours together. Despite the odds, they fall in love. **_

Just when everything was looking up for Stiles, everything came crashing down. He stopped eating, stopped sleeping, and even though the nogistune wearing his face had been destroyed, Stiles couldn't quite hold on to reality. The lines between reality and fiction were blurring at an alarming rate and for the first time he didn't have Scott to help pull him through; the werewolf who'd been by his side since childhood, who helped him deal with his mother's death and every day after was nowhere to be seen.

Shortly after the final showdown at the school, Scott had left. Leaving a short note for him mother and Derek, telling them not to find him, the alpha had fled Beacon Hills just like Isaac had only days prior, trying to outrun the memories of Allison Argent.

The brave huntress who had saved them all by figuring out how to stop the Oni only to find herself run through with a sword.

Safe to say that her death had hit everyone in their own way and so it was only fair that people found their own ways to deal with it: Isaac travelled; sending postcards to Melissa once a fortnight, letting her know that he was safe. Derek pulled away, preferring to brood and lick his wounds alone while Chris Argent threw himself into his work, vowing to uphold his daughter's wishes and to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Kira floated between Lydia and Stiles and anyone else who would welcome her, offering a shoulder to cry on or just an ear to listen.

Stiles added 'mourning Allison' to his already extensive to-do list, closely followed by 'stop blaming self for indirectly killing Allison' whereas Lydia reached out for a hand to hold in the darkness, determined to carry on, to be strong just like the archer would have done.

It turns out the fate has a sense of humour as the hand Lydia held on to just so happened to be that of certain human.

Weeks passed and school ended, summer began and Lydia couldn't bring herself to leave Stiles' side, instead choosing to spend nights together, passed out and sprawled awkwardly across his bed or traipsing through the woods or the mall; wherever one went, the other one surely followed. Stiles took strength from the way the young banshee refused to back down and in turn, Lydia sat through every nightmare with Stiles, assuring him that Allison's death was not his fault, was no-ones fault.

At some point over the summer, the two had become closer. She knew all his favourite songs and the way he refused to wake in the mornings; he knew how she enjoyed adding ridiculous amounts of pepper to her food and how she hated wearing loose pants to sleep in.

Then school started again and Scott returned and Derek came with tales of demonic She-Wolves and the elder Argent brought news of berserkers in the area and the fragile peace that had been found over the summer was shattered.

Together, the broken teenagers regrouped to form their 'pack' and save the day without so much as a thank you and for a while everything was going well.

Until the first Thursday of October and Stiles didn't show up to school, that is.

Scott accepted this, understood it, but to Lydia, this absence was unforgivable. It was unprovoked and worse yet, the boy in question refused to answer any of her texts or the two phone calls she'd made during her free period.

Eventually, Lydia gave up waiting for a reply and decided to find out what had happened to the boy she'd grown so close to over the summer. Without overthinking it and much sooner than she'd expected, Lydia pulled up to the front door of the Stilinski residence and after knocking for a good five minutes with no answer, she used the spare key and opened the door.

Music filtered down the stairs and the banshee, straining to make out the words, followed the sound of the melody to Stiles' room.

Gingerly pushing the door open, Lydia stopped. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, perhaps a body or something, but a giant fort made out of sheets and cushions was not it.

"Stiles?" she whispered, eyes searching for the mop of dark hair she knew so well.

"Lydia?" his voice came from under the sheets, "What are you doing here?" he asked, head and shoulders emerging from under the cloth.

"I was, uh, I was worried about you. You didn't answer your phone."

"Oh, yeah. Turned it off, sorry," Stiles shrugged before returning to his fort.

Following slowly, Lydia saw Stiles pulled into a corner, legs crossed and dragging a sleeve across his already red face before noticing a small picture frame on the floor. Picking it up and turning it over, Lydia could feel Stiles' eyes on her as she absentmindedly ran her fingers over the figures in the frame, instantly placing the goofy grin of the small boy in the image. Understanding slowly dawned as to who the woman in the picture was and one glance at Stiles' face confirmed it for her.

"Ten years today," he whispered as a way of explaining before reaching out and taking the framed photo of a young Stiles and Claudia Stilinski from the banshee. "We used to make forts like this all the time when I was little. When she died, my dad wouldn't help make them, said it was too painful and I was never all that good at making them myself."

"Stiles, I-"

"Its fine," Stiles said, cutting Lydia off, "You actually helped me make one once."

"I did?"

"Yeah, third grade. Couple of weeks after my mom passed away, you just came up and told me I was making it wrong."

"Well you probably were," Lydia laughed, hoping to bring a smile to the face of the boy before her.

"Probably. I never thanked you for it though."

"Stiles, you don't have to thank me. For anything, okay?" Reaching out to place a hand on Stiles' knee, Lydia watched his face closely as she continued, "You always help everyone and never stop to take care of yourself. You put everyone else in front of yourself and you have to stop that. You have to stop it."

"Lydia, I-"

"-I'm not done. Today, I'm gonna take care of you. We're going to sit here and order takeout and talk and if you need to cry or scream or whatever, I'm here. I'm here for you, okay?"

For a moment, neither teen spoke and fearing she had gone too far, Lydia pulled back her hand only for Stiles to move suddenly and pull her to him, arms wrapped around her shoulders tightly, head nestled into the crook of her neck.

Breathing deeply, Stiles closed his eyes and whispered, "Okay."

* * *

_**Mad love. **_

Caring for Lydia Martin is practically second nature to him by this point.

Once upon a time he believed he loved her but, if her was being honest, he doubts that he could ever accurately define his feelings for the 5'3" banshee. She became his friend, his best friend. She became so much more than just a crush and so that's why the idea of loving Lydia Martin seems so strange to him now.

How can you say you love someone when you don't just 'love' them?

When they mean so much more than that to you?

When you've sat and read dictionaries for hours, learnt the definitions for the different kinds of love, watched all the old movies and listened to all the songs and still can't find a way to define this _thing_ inside, this emotion that's so much more than he thought possible to feel?

Because standing in the middle of a clearing in the woods, rain falling fast overhead and with Lydia Martin standing in front of him, looking at him in a way he never thought possible, Stiles, for once, didn't have anything to say.

"I just, I might have feelings for you and I need to know _what_ you feel. _If_ you feel anything, that is," she trailed off, eyes flickering across his face while Stiles ran his thumbs over his fingers, checking that there were only ten digits and that he wasn't dreaming.

"Lydia – I can't… I-"

"It's fine," Lydia interrupted, turning around and heading out of the forest. She had made it was grand total of six steps when Stiles managed to catch up to her, pulling on her arm and spinning her around.

"I don't know how I feel. I wish I did but I don't and I'm sorry but," pausing, taking a deep breath, Stiles ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. Opening his eyes, looking into the green eyes ingrained in his memory and steeling his resolve, Stiles moved his hands to rest just under the petite banshee's jaw, thumbs brushing over her cheeks and fingertips threading through her hair.

"I don't know a lot of things here but I do know that I can't _not_ love you," Stiles whispered, willing Lydia to understand.

"Good enough for me," she smiled before reaching up to brush her lips across his.

* * *

_**She makes him a better person. He hates to admit it.**_

It happens slowly, Scott's the first one to notice, closely followed by his father. Eventually, Stiles seems to catch on and see just how much of an influence Lydia had made in his life.

It's not so much the way that he's dressed, though his sense of style and wardrobe has had a serious Lydia Martin style makeover. It's not even his grades though they have seen an improvement; there are certain perks to studying with a genius after all.

It's more than that and at the same time it's such a small change that it took nearly eight months of friendship with the fiery banshee before Stiles understood and accepted that he had been changed.

And, for Stiles, this revelation happened in a basement.

Tied up, ribs bruised and broken, face sore and bloody, Stiles could only pray that his friends would find him. That Scott, Isaac, hell, even Derek would fight their way through goons upstairs and find him tied up in this hellhole.

Hours passed, days could have gone by for all Stiles knew but throughout it all, one thought remained: _I don't want to die. _

For the first time in as long as Stiles could remember, his life meant something to him. He had friends and family and a reason to live. For the first time, it mattered to Stiles whether or not he lived or died and he had Lydia to blame for this. For all her kind words and brief touches and her unwavering belief that he was _important_, that Stiles Stilinski _mattered_ to the world just as much as anyone else and that if he died, she'd be devastated.

Pulling the bindings on his wrists once more, Stiles felt the rope start to give way and felt something a lot like hope begin to bloom in his chest.

Breathing deeply, closing his eyes, Stiles thought of Allison, of how strong she was and how she wouldn't wait around just to be rescued. He thought of Scott who would be going out of his mind trying to find him, of Lydia who was just as likely to hit him after this as she was to kiss him. He thought of his dad and how he fought for what was right every damn day, despite the odds stacked against him. Of his mother who told him that he was the strongest son she could ask for, who taught him that he could do and be anything.

Stiles would fight and live for them but most importantly, he would live for himself.

Because Lydia was right, because he mattered.

Not that he would ever tell her she was right.

* * *

_**He can't imagine life without her. He buys the ring and asks… **_

Life goes on for the pack, every other week there's some new monster to take down or some new drama. Scott and Kira eventually get together and break up and get back together. Cora came back to Beacon Hills and Derek took on the role as a protector for the supernatural, for those who didn't want to or couldn't fight, he became their saviour.

Peter actually tried to help out and taught Malia the finer points of shifting, things Scott was still learning himself. Stiles still remembers the day that Malia shifted in front of him, taking the form of a wolf for the first time and the proud look on Peter's face; it seemed the fatherhood was a good look for him, much to the shock of the rest of the pack.

Jackson returned to Beacon Hills High School for his final year and Lydia finally got the closure that she'd been missing out on for so long. Isaac made plans to travel after high school, possibly venturing as far as England which prompted Jackson to start up a friendship with the part-time wolf.

Lydia was offered scholarships to four different colleges and Stiles worked closely with Deaton, discovering that he had a gift when it came to working with magic and eventually, the elder Druid formally made Stiles his apprentice.

The pack fought together, mourned together, laughed together and now, at the end of their senior year, it was time for the pack to move on. Scott was attending a local community college with Kira while Stiles was still looking through online courses and Lydia made endless lists of pro's and con's for each college choice.

Summer came, bring black caps and gowns with it and before Stiles could even blink, Melissa was taking pictures of the pack in their graduation robes, holding diplomas and holding the flash far too close to his face.

"We did it!" Scott cheers, throwing his arm around his shoulder and even Derek smiles at the alpha jumping around and grinning like a puppy.

"We did," Stiles sighs, looking around at the ragtag group of friends he'd become close to over the past four years.

If anyone had told Stiles when he first started high school that he'd become best friends with werewolves and a banshee, that he spend his free time hanging out learning how to defend himself with a kitsune and a hunter, that he'd be training to be a magician or whatever Deaton was then he'd just laugh.

If you told him that he'd be unofficially dating Lydia Martin by the end of his four years of schooling then he'd most likely call you insane and walk away, muttering about a ten year plan but here he was.

And now, everyone would be leaving.

Turning away from the group, scanning the crowd for the 5'3" banshee who held his heart, Stiles could barely breathe. Barely register what he was about to do.

"Lydia!" he called out, spotting the strawberry blonde heading over to the rest of the pack.

"Hey guys," she nodded to the group as a greeting before turning to Stiles, "What's up?"

"I need to ask you something," Stiles rushed out, dropping to one knee, running his fingers through his hair before reaching out to take her hands.

"O-kay…"

"Lydia Martin, I have been in love with you since the third grade. You're perfect to me, you're everything and I can't imagine life without you. I don't _want_ to imagine it without you and I know that you've got all these offers from all these incredible colleges and that I can't ask you to stay because that's not fair to you-"

"Dear God, what is that boy doing?" Sheriff Stilinski muttered, seeing the scene his son was making.

"Stiles, what are you saying?" Lydia asked, struggling to breathe.

"Take me with you."

"What?"

"Take me with you. Let's go, travel, see the world, whatever. Just don't go without me, I don't want to lose you. I love you, Lydia," Stiles said, holding his breath, waiting for a response.

"Stiles, you're an idiot," pulling her hands away, Lydia half turned, making an exasperated noise before turning back to the bewildered boy.

Slowly getting up from his knees, Stiles cocked his head, "Wait, what?"

"Dude," Scott laughed, "I think she thought you were proposing!"

"Whoa, no I – unless you want me to," Stiles trailed off, looking at Lydia.

"God no, we're eighteen."

"Oh thank God," Stiles breathed, "So why do you still look mad at me?"

"Because for a guy so smart you can be so dense sometime," Lydia laughed, shaking her head.

"Then what did I do?"

"Stiles, I was going to stay here. I was always going to stay here, I just wanted to know if you wanted me here-"

"I want you here, I definitely want you," Stiles interrupted, reaching out for the banshee.

"Good, because I don't think I can imagine a life without you either," Lydia laughed, reaching up to kiss Stiles if only to stop him babbling.

* * *

The pack moved away, grew up and changed but they always came back. Lydia completed online courses in record time and three years after finishing high school, she left Beacon Hills to collect her Master's degree with a ring on her finger, given to her by Stiles.

Claudia Stilinski's engagement ring.

Lydia, of course, had said yes.

* * *

**A/N2: Well, how did I do? **

**While this is nowhere near my first piece of writing, this is my first time playing with these characters so please let me know if I did them justice. Let me know what you like, what you didn't like and if you'd like to see more from me in this fandom in the future. **

**For those of you who know me from other fandoms, I haven't abandoned you. I will return with new work over the coming weeks but if you want to know when to expect updates or badger me to write more then you can feel free to hit up my Twitter account Gemma30185. **


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